


Guilt

by Lanford



Series: Fault to Guilt [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-10-17 14:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10595595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanford/pseuds/Lanford
Summary: Is Max guilty of the events in the Dark Room? Now that she seems to be in a relationship with her precious idol, new struggles come as the past keeps chasing them.This work is a direct sequel to "Fault" from the same author in AO3.Like the previous work, this one will only be tagged properly when it's finished, in order to avoid spoilers for the readers and retconning events which may or may not happen, as the full story is still undefined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> May you have a happy birthday, Mr. Jefferson! This April 11th, you're becoming 42 years old, and I offer to you a pristine Maxine -- please keep being awesome, you deserved more and I feel like giving the world to you, but this is all I can offer you right now, my loved one.

A white background in a cold room with dark walls, dark roof, and dark-tiled floor.

He pulled the rope applying some force, making a sound of the fibers straining at each other, while gripping tightly at the crossed wrists at her back -- she also makes a sound then. "...Is it too tight?" He whispers behind her ear. "I can undo it and try looseni--"

"Nope." She cuts through his concern. "I-it's ok, it doesn't hurt." The stuttering means she's outright lying to him. She already knew it was, indeed, tight enough to begin hurting her skin halfway through his actions.

He rises from his knees, contours to her front and bows to meet her face, displaying a subtle smile to her while grabbing her shoulder in assurance. "You know we can stop this anytime if you don't feel like it, all right?"

The heat of his hand could be felt through the dark fabric of her tee. "I know I can trust you... Mr. Jefferson." She nods to him, grinning.

"Pfft! Call me Mark already..." With the soft laugh, he turns his back to her, his large shoulders covered by an usual white shirt, he picks his camera at a nearby desk, quickly turning to face her again.

Still grinning, she squints at him. "You know I like calling you _Mr. Jefferson_ , and there's no way you can stop me from doing so." She defies him, even if she has both her feet and hands bound, unable to get up from her knees without help.

"Like I didn't knew how to stop you... _Maxine_." Defying back at her with his smug smile, he bows to her again, this time using the hand which wasn't holding the camera to grab her chin tightly, pulling her face up.

They share a long kiss. Tilting their faces left and right numerous times, they produce wet sounds which can be heard just everywhere through his small apartment. Their breath becomes hard as they begin moaning, letting the heat of increased heartbeats take over their bodies.

Suddenly, he breaks the kiss, letting off his grip and pointing his index finger at her. "Hold it, just like that." He holds up his camera with his both hands and starts taking photographs of her.

Max keeps breathing harshly, mouth and eyes half-open, bearing such a lewd look at her face she could never believe she was able to. Even if they were not touching each other anymore, each time the sound of the camera shutter was shot around her, she would feel this strange, pleasant tension building up inside her.

He took few steps around her front. "Yes... Keep your hard breathing..." He gave directions to her. "Upward... Good, I love that look in your face..." He gave her praise. "Oh Max, you're just so perfect..." It was very difficult to control himself while shooting her.

The shutter ringing at her ears was driving her crazy, tingling from up the back of her head all the way down her spine -- she was so in love with that sound, his sweet voice actually made it all a lot better. Her rugged breaths could actually be seen into steamy puffs, as the room was cold enough in order to prevent their inhabitants of sweating under hard lights. She closes her eyes, as if to savor the shutter sounds, giving in to her drive and completely losing any trace of composure she had before the session.

He noticed she wasn't as still now, making it harder to get good shots. Something had to be done. He grabbed her shoulder again, her exhaling a faint moan at his touch, then pulled her down, laying her sideways on the white ground.

As he resumed taking photographs, she twitched at the sounds around her. It was so powerful, the reaction of being showered with shutter clicks was beyond her reasoning.

\-------

The long sleeves of her gray hoodie hid the bruised wrists. It hurt a little when she touched them, but she didn't mind the pain at all -- it felt like a trophy, reminding her of her biggest accomplishment in life, who was currently standing right by her side, placing her latte and his coffee on the table before sitting across her.

He would bring her to a stoic net-café every morning, where he would casually browse the internet on his charging laptop while drinking coffee. It was unknown to her if this was an habit of his while staying in Seattle, however, she would do just the same -- browse the internet in her phone while it charged to full, using the cables which stick out of the tables there, so all users could bring and charge their devices while consuming their breakfast... quite a fascinating give-and-take relationship between the café and it's consumers.

As their regular mornings, they would just stay there, on their own devices, without actually speaking to each other at all. Their circumstances were remarkably strange. They avoided talking while in public places, as it would be awkward to try explaining themselves to a random person, or even having the police suddenly on their trail.

After all, they both were murderers.

Every other day, someone would creep to Mr. Jefferson in order to have an autograph from him into one of his photography books. It seems he didn't care always going to the same place and being easily found by random fans, he would quickly flash a smile to them, never denying a request from a fan, even taking selfies with them -- to his ultimate disgust inside.

Luckily to her, Max would hardly be noticed, although she had just the right excuse ready to be shot at the curious ones -- she won a contest worth a trip with Mark Jefferson, and that's all there is to them being together. They had actually discussed it thoroughly, and they both came up with this in order to escape from judgmental stares, either because they were teacher and student back in Arcadia Bay, or because it's _so_ suspicious seeing a thirty-something adult paired up with an unrelated teen, or even because his jealous fans could attack her if they found out they were in love.

They cared for each other, enough to hold back any urge to display affection while in public.

\-------

She studies his beautiful, mature profile while he's driving his car, thinking of how to keep their conversation going. "...You believe I feared you would kill me?"

He glances at her, softening his expression before looking back to the road. "I confess to you that, at some point, the thought of it crossed my mind, but I don't think I could do it... you are just too precious, I could never kill you."

"Really? Then why did you thought so?" She widens her eyes in curiosity.

Without taking his eyes off the road, he answers sincerely. "It was going to be troublesome if you woke up and got away somehow with the wrong idea." His soft smile slowly turns into a stern face. "You know, you could have me arrested."

Looking away to the scenario surrounding them, she says it clearly and straight. "...I still can."

"If I'm going to jail, I'll gladly pull you together into that trip." He laughs it off.

"Haha~..." Laughing a little louder than him, she looks down to her lap, gripping her hands at the bottom border of her tee. "It's just like you said though, I could never do it."

"Why?" He glances again, noticing her anxiousness.

Her face becomes hot as she answers to him, still shyly looking down. "Because... you're precious to me, it means a lot to have you answer to my feelings like this... I never thought it would be possible."

He then actually pulls the car off the road, coming to a full stop, but still without turning off the engine. He stares to the wheel, stern-faced, as she looks to him in confusion as to why they stopped. ".....Max, do you... you really think I am worth it?"

The question-mark in her face gives way to an exclamation-mark instead. " **Always!** I would do it all again, no regrets what so ever."

He looks to her, melting his worries into a sweet smile as he contemplates her. Raising his right hand, he ruffles her hair with truthful affection. A car passes by them in the road, just as he said something to her -- so softly, she was not able to hear it, the engine from the passerby car was so loud it surpassed his voice.

Small tears formed at the sides of her eyes as she smiled back to him. It didn't really matter she was unable to make what he said to her. She once again became aware of this specific life goal of hers being met, and she was so proud and happy about it she could barely hold her feelings. He moved her. He gave meaning to her life. She needed nothing else but him, and he was there for her.

\-------

She slowly wakes up, watching her surroundings in a narrow-eyed look.

It is the same underground dim-lit room she was once inside.

As she tries to move, no wonder, she's bound with duct tape to a chair, however, when she looks at herself, she realizes being in her pajamas this time.

"...Why?" A male voice picks her attention.

She can recognize David is sit in the white couch, arched down, his knees holding his elbows, and his hands holding his head.

"Why you did nothing to protect her, Max?" David looks up from the floor to her eyes, getting up and walking to her. "Chloe trusted you, but I didn't!"

"Umm... Why are you here, David? Weren't you dead?" She asks, wondering when did she screw time so much now...?

He bends over her while she looks up, placing his both hands over her bound wrists. "Yes Max, I am dead, Chloe is also dead, and it's your fault!" As David screams at her, blood dripping from the inside of his mouth, staining her pajamas.

She looks down at all the blood falling at her, disgusted at the hot feeling of his blood over her skin. "David, I didn't kill Chloe--"

" **YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAVE HER!!** " When David yelled, blood splattered at her face as she closed her eyes in fear. "Don't you feel guilty, Max? Becoming a killer like him?"

"Get away from me!" Bearing tears in her eyes, she shakes her body as she can, however unable to even get the chair moving.....

 

As the twilight rays starts creeping by the window's blind, he's already awake, although contemplative as he gradually comes to his senses. All it takes is her mumbles for him to be fully aware of his duty -- he turns to her, by his side in bed, able to see her troubled complexion while still asleep, then cups her face with one hand, softly, trying not to scare her more than she already seems to.

She jumps as she wakes up, realizing who is the one person actually by her side, and converting all the tension into tears. "All the blood over me... It was so gross!"

He comforts her. "Shhh... it's ok now, I'll protect you." He hugs her small figure in a spoon, as she's still uncontrollably crying, he has one hand tightly around her waist, and the other at the top of her head, cuddling her. "It's over... I'm here for you, I won't let anything bad happen to you."

An unknown number of minutes had passed by before she finally calmed down. His sweet words comforting her like no counseling psychologist could do better -- he knew her too well, and she felt safeness in being together with him, not only because he knew how to handle her, but also because of her own powers.

She felt safe because she was sure she could undo any real, physical harm, by rewinding anytime.


	2. Chapter 2

Her mouth, sighing deeply and slowly, drools from the side. Her fast heartbeats coming to normal. Already finished releasing her feet, as he unties her arms, her wrists can be seen marked in a reddish color tone. "I told you I did not want to hurt you, Max." He pulls her body up from the laying position, leaning into his, then picks one of her arms carefully to look at the bruises. "Why did you not tell me it was this tight? The rope is supposed to be an aesthetic element, nothing beyond it."

Still in deep breaths, she answers to him while resting her head at his chest. "I... I like... all of this... your voice, the sound of your camera... the strain on my body... I love this..." Blood begins to creep from inside of her nose.

"Fuck, Max, you're bleeding again..." As he's helping her to stand up, he places one hand under her chin, worrying her blood would drip into the pristine white background. "When are you going to stop rewinding out of self-pleasure? We only live once, you can't keep reliving the same moment over and over again--"

She looks up to him, interrupting his concerns. "But when it ends, I still want more!" He carefully tries to pull her out of the room, but she staggers, clinging to his white shirt and leaving a small red stain on it.

"Can't you see I don't want to hurt you?" Embracing her to keep Maxine from falling, Mark looks deeply in her eyes when she looks up to him again. "...Stop begging for more."

After a short pause between them, he swiftly lifts her on his arms, much like a princess bride, carrying her out of the cold studio and into the cozy bedroom.

\-------

In a morning like the ones from the past few days. They are at the netcafé, sitting across each other, drinking their beverage and minding their own businesses.

".....Mr. Jefferson?" She says quietly, staring at him, but he seemed too into his laptop to notice.

She kicks his ankle under the table, giving him a sharp, momentarily pain, enough for him to curse under his breath before staring back at her "...What is it, Caulfield?" He aligns his glasses, squinting.

She's already packing her phone back into her bag. "Get up, it's time to go." It's the _safe word_ agreed between them -- every time Max said ' _time_ ' along a casual phrase, it meant she had seen a possible threat ahead and rewound already, giving them both a chance to react accordingly.

They left the netcafé, got into his car, quickly started the engine--and as soon as they were turning the next corner, a police car could be seen at the mirror, parking at the lot they've just left from. "Do you know what they wanted?" He asks in a low voice tone, as if they were hiding.

"Nope." Max looks at the city buildings through the window as they wander far from there. "I rewound as soon as an officer stood beside our table. He certainly did not look like he wanted your autograph."

\-------

As he cleaned, numerous times, all the blood which ran along the ground, he thought of the past. " _At least Rachel did not bleed._ " He thought not once, not twice, but also numerous times.

Of course he was not blaming Maxine for this situation -- on the contrary, he felt very proud of her, after all, she was ready to kill for his sake, and he was sure they were needing all the help they could afford, for the dead soldier was to be missed and they had to get rid of every evidence linking them to this single event.

Truth to be told, his mind was so spiralled into ridding the dead body, he never noticed the danger of letting go of his precious Maxine. "Go get the first-aid box inside my car, it should be somewhere around the passenger's seat." So he told her, then he gave her his car keys.

So.

Fucking.

Careless.

The big, safe-like door, opened from the outside with a loud sound, and the soundsketch of a severe storm could be formed on his mind, as he heard the blowing wind and rainfalls before the door was locked back again. "I found it, finally... Where should I leave your keys?" Her innocent voice could be heard from behind his back.

"Give them to me." He turned to her and lifted an open hand -- the glove was tinted red, and he soon closed his hand when he realized it, before she could even reach near him. "Just a minute, I'm going to get a new pair..." He lifts from crouching, towering her as she observed the dead body with a fixed gaze.

Box in one hand, keys in other hand, Max looked at the dead soldier, so still and devoid of animation, holes in the zones she had shot him at, she didn't even knew if the projectiles were still stuck inside him or scattered around the dim-lit room.

He swiftly removed the reddish latex gloves, placing them in a metal container where there was about a half-dozen rag pieces soaked in blood, including the one piece he was just cleaning the ground with, along with other stuff, like Maxine's design-sneakers, it's soles also bathed in blood, they quickly decided to throw them away -- she now wore regular shoes, one of a few spare pairs used for the photoshoots down there.

When he got to the sink and washed his both hands and face, he whimpered at the pain of the cold water coming into contact with his wounded chin. "Oh my-- it's still hurting on your face." Max got out of her trance when she heard his reaction. "I'm sorry I took so long, I couldn't find it..." She looks to him and sees him trying very gently to dry his face in a clean rag.

"It's ok, you must be so nervous at all this..." He looked to her while drying his hands, molding the cloth piece into a ball and throwing it at the dead body's direction. "Come here." He walks to the white couch in the center of the room, resting on it with a deep sigh signaling his tiredness.

"To be honest, I kind of feel safe." She put the car keys over the low table in front of the couch, then sit by his side, placing the first-aid box in her lap and opening it carefully.

"Why?" He observes her motions as she searches inside the box for the proper materials.

"Well... in only a few hours, you've become so supportive of me. I never imagined I'd ever be into so much trouble..." She looks closely to his face as they are sit next to each other.

Maxine applies a soft piece of gauze over his wounds, pressing lightly. The water which had just wet his face made his blood stain the white gauze with light, little red-colored blotches. After drying the wounds the best she could, she folds the gauze and applies antiseptics all over it, pressing it back on his face.

Altough he did not talk to her while she tended to him, he released vowels at the pain inflicted from the remedy. She couldn't help having dirty thougths crossing her mind all the time, wondering if this was really just a reaction from pain, or if he was using this whole situation as an excuse to tease her.

Her eyes drifted along his frame-less facial features. " _God, why he's so beautiful?_ " She thought to herself, still wondering how on Earth had she managed to score such intimacy to her idol. Everything happened so fast up to now and her self-awareness grew to--

"Max?" He interrupts her trip. "You're kind of... pressing too hard, let me take it from here." He attempts smiling to her under a little frown. She feels his touch at the back of her hand.

"No! Umm, Mr. Jefferson, I..." Startled, she drops the gauze in clumsy moves. As soon as she breaks eye contact, she is able to tell him properly: "I feel like looking after you. Just like you were so worried about my safety during this week, while I didn't even notice it..."

Mark understands her concern, letting her care thoroughly to her heart's content.

\-------

"Hiya handsome!" A blue-haired girl climbs over his shirtless laid body as he opens his eyes -- she is naked, unzipping his pants. "I'm so cold for you now, can you feel it?"

"Get off me, you dirty!" Mark pushes her violently with both hands and feets, crawling back a little before getting up from the cold ground, holding his pants with both hands and awkwardly trying to close them back.

The room they were in was completely black, although spotlights coming from far off the top followed both figures. He looked to her with disgust across his face. It was gradually getting cold, his feet almost hurt from standing bare to the floor.

A few steps back had him stumble into something else. "Love me back, daddy!" Upon a familiar voice, cold arms embraces him from behind.

"Nathan? Quick, get rid of that punk, will you?" He twists his body to see the rich kid, who was also naked, begin grinding on his back, hands sliding down inside the pants Mark was still struggling to hold in place. "Wha-- Are you siding with her?!"

"Can't you see, Mark?" a spotlight lits to his side, revealing another figure farther away from him. "We are dead, all of us, you screwed up big time."

"...Rachel?" He looks to her. Such a stunning young woman. Such a strong, radiant force emmanating from her presence -- she was the only figure fully dressed, the only figure who rendered him without any course of action, as if the other figures did not even need to hold him in place anymore.

Mark was powerless.

"I--a-- I'm sorry... I brought you to all of this, if I knew--" He steps timidly towards her as the other figures vanishes into the darkness.

"You knew nothing. All that mattered was only you, you, **YOU**! It was never me, never us, only what **you** wanted." Rachel roared at him fearlessly, not even blinking her furious hazel eyes.

"I just wanted to protect you!" He sounds desperate for her forgiveness, although nervous upon being judged.

"Protect? You cut off my wings! You left me to rot under your bastard apprentice!" She doesn't hesitate through her sharp words.

Mark have finally reached close to her. "Don't you see I killed him because of you? I took my revenge for you!" A rare moment of frustration comes off from his figure.

"You fucked up your career by yourself, don't go pushing responsibilities on me." Suddenly, the all rage in her face turns into sorrow. "...I trusted you, Mark, I truly loved you..."

Rachel finally took a step back.

 

He opens his eyes scaredly upon sitting on the bed -- he was awake, arm raised as if he tried to grab onto something, hard breaths pumped off sweats all across his skin.

He picks his glasses from the side table, first and foremost, then looks to the other side of the bed. Maxine slept peacefully. A few nights ago, she still woke up with nightmares, but now it seems she had settled, at last.

Feet in floor, he proceeds to the bathroom. It's still dark outside. He takes off his glasses once again and washes his face.

The face is washed as many times enough to make the tears stop.

He returns to the bedroom in soft steps. He had calmed down. The glasses are placed methodically in the same position they were at the side table. He sits back at the bed as slowly as he can -- it seems he didn't disturb her rest.

He looks to her with a stare full of longing. Softly caressing along her hair strands.

The muse was admired for long minutes before he fell asleep once again. He found safeness.

He knew she could rewind anytime -- that's why he always submitted to her absolute command word, because he knew he would be safe when staying by her side, _all the time_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much for two hundred Kudos and eight thousand views total on my fics here at AO3, it means a lot to know it's being read and appreciated by this many people! <3
> 
> Second, excuse for taking long months in updating this story with a new chapter.  
> When I started writing Guilt, all I knew is that I wish I could come up with a sequel to Fault somehow, because having a psychopath character coupled with a time-manipulating character sounds like something very interesting, I really wanted to flirt with that idea, but I had only thought of "Want to start a sequel!", not knowing how I could sustain an actual story with relevant plot points, also not knowing how I would end it. So I passed all this time thinking about not only this chapter, but also scenes from further places in the story -- now I already know how I want to finish this, and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I am enjoying stitching this together. Please bear with the long hiatus.
> 
> Last, but not least, happy Friday the 13th!  
> I grew up very fond of this date, it's association with horror movies feels very inspiring to me. The next one is landing on April 2018, I really, really hope I can finish this story ahead of it and bring you something completely different by then =D


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